


the whole world in a kiss

by unicyclehippo



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: F/F, five & one, wrote this on tumblr & put it up bc someone asked me to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicyclehippo/pseuds/unicyclehippo
Summary: i don't think i have ever done a five & one before (five times - didn't happen, one time it did) so this is my first ever. five times ellie thought about kissing dina, and one time it actually happened.





	1. Chapter 1

ONE.

Their settlement is growing, slowly but steadily. 

Joel interrogates every single person that walks through those gates. Children included. ('It's not interrogation, Ellie, I'm just askin' a couple questions. That's all.') Sometimes Ellie sits in on them. It's not that he trusts her gut, as Ellie likes to insist—in fact, he firmly denies that she even  _has_ a gut, when pressed, and it's so ridiculous that it makes Ellie laugh, and Joel cracks the faintest smile, and they carry on as they always do. No, it's not that; he just wants to see what kind of folk they are. If they're the kind of folk who think little girls are weak, or stupid or whatever dumb ideas they might be carrying. They'd had one bad experience with some guy that Joel called 'a good for nothin' high flyin' tooter'. Tommy translated that into  _actual_ words for Ellie—said it means he's the kind of guy that survived on someone else's muscle, someone else's coat-tails, and then made out that  _he's_ the one who did it all. A cheat. A pretender. Self-important beyond all reality. And that got Tommy and Joel into a huge bickering match because apparently Tommy 'knowin' words longer 'n two syllables just ain't right' (and because sometimes the brothers just want to have a tussle). 

But other than that one guy, most of the people that join them are good people. 

Hardened, scarred. Often a little wild in the eyes. Ellie remembers all too well feeling like that. 

So does Joel.

There's a woman who joins them about a year after they get the place up and running. She wears a green headscarf much cleaner than the rest of her clothes and she can handle a hunting rifle in such a fashion that Joel actually whistles under his breath. And there's a girl with her, about Ellie's age. 

'She's seventeen,' Joel tells her before they go into the room, flicking through the information sheet the two filled out. 'Dina.' He hands over the paper and Ellie traces the curling letters the girl uses. 

'Last name?'

'Ain't got one, I 'spose.'

'Not everyone does,' Ellie nods. She looks out the barred window into the small waiting room, watches as the girl— _Dina—_ sweeps the room with cautious eyes and then throws herself down onto the couch, smile coming to her as easy as breathing. Ellie is drawn to that window, to that smile; it's been a long while since Ellie has read the comics but she is reminded of a queen, bejewelled in sapphires. The thought is fleeting, dismissed in an instant, and in the interview Dina is nice, and smart, and she wears hope heavy around her shoulders like a winter coat in the summer. She makes light of it so easily—breathes out a great, dramatic gust of air and says 'I'd sell my left kidney to a cannibal for a good nights sleep' (Ellie doesn't flinch, she  _doesn't_ )—but when Joel grunts and says,

'Well come on, there's a couple beds in G block,'

Dina grabs Ellie's hand and  _squeezes_. 

//

Ellie rubs her hand over the rough fabric of her jeans.

It's been hours but her skin tingles every time she thinks about Dina—who is, she's learned, seventeen-and-three-months old, and who ransacked every house for music to bring with her because 'Is life even  _worth_ anything if we don't have music?', and who has chopped her dark, thick hair unevenly short around her ears and the cut makes her face look unexpectedly delicate when she isn't smiling (which isn't often, not when someone is watching her).

 _She's so pretty_ , Ellie thinks, following Joel back to the mess hall. And then she thinks,  _Pretty as a picture_ , which is a phrase she's picked up from god knows where, and she thinks about showing Dina the paintings that were picked up from the gallery in the city on a whim and kissing her next to the least moulded one.

'All right there, Ellie?'

'Huh?'

'You've gone all quiet.'

'Just thinking.' Joel grunts, pretending to be surprised, and Ellie jogs up to walk beside him, elbows him hard in the side. 'Shut up. God, you're  _such_ a jerk.'

* * *

TWO.

Dina likes music, and dancing, and lookout duty, and hunting, and anything that gets her outside. She's a little shorter and slimmer than Ellie, so Ellie made the mistake of worrying about her exactly once the first time they went out on patrol with a couple of the other guys. Seeing her with a knife in her hand, though...

'Holy  _shit_ , Dina.'

'Not bad, huh?'

Ellie blinks a few times quickly, struggles to find something new to say. But she  _can't_ , so, 'Holy  _shit_.'

Dina grins, wipes the black blood off her blade on the runner's shirt before coming back to join Ellie. She's got a smudge of grime on her cheek and Ellie can't stop looking at it. 

'You've got, um,'

'Hmm?'

'Like. A little,' Ellie point.

'Oh.' Dina wipes at her face, completely missing the mark, and Ellie grins. 

'Hold on—here, let me.' She tucks her sleeve down over her hand and wipes at the grime. They're so close together and Dina's skin is really soft and it occurs to Ellie that she could very easily lean in and kiss her. The thought makes her hand pause and, when she looks up, Dina is smiling fondly at her. 

'Gone?'

'Uh. Almost.' Heat rushes up the back of her neck and she hurries to swipe the last bit from her cheek. 'There, yeah, there you go.' Dina doesn't stop her smiling and Ellie has to clear her throat, step away. 'What?'

'You have this little,' Dina points to her own forehead and frowns deeply. It's gone instantly when she grins. 'This line you get when you're concentrating. It's cute.'

'Oh.' Ellie wills her flush away. 'Cool, well, we should keep going.'

* * *

THREE.

Dina sleeps over in Ellie's room for her eighteenth birthday. 

It's hard to celebrate when everything's as stretched thin as it always is but Joel apparently scrounged up a couple favours, and saved more rations than he should've, and they had a feast just the four of them—Joel and Ellie, and Dina and Dina's aunt Isra—and a small cake with a candle, the 1 melted off so it just says 8, and Ellie withstands Joel and Dina's teasing with an embarrassed eye roll. Isra sings quietly, beautifully, and sneaks a little vodka into Ellie's soda with a wink. 

Joel lets them take the bedroom and one of the favours was to borrow a TV and movie from the rec—some  _terrible_ teen movie with poorly choreographed fight scenes and Joel had been worried for three seconds before he saw how they laughed at the fake spurting blood and the vampire villains, so obviously human. 

Dina turns the lights off and they sit huddled together, a big warm blanket wrapped around their shoulders, and she pulls out a slightly melted chocolate bar from her pocket and they share it. Ellie is surrounded by the hum of electric lights crackling through the walls, the reassuring click of boots from the patrol overhead, and the taste of sugar bursting on on her tongue as she licks the last of the chocolate from her finger and thumb. 

'Was it a good birthday?' Dina whispers to her partway through the movie, when the main character has his love interest in his arms. 

Ellie thinks about it for a while. She leans back against the wall, legs outstretched so her feet dangle over the side of the bed. 

Joel had given her a leather bracelet, three inches wide. It sits on her left wrist and she suspects it'll feel a little strange until she gets used to it but Joel had mumbled something about having too much leather after his hunt, and how the wrist is a vulnerable part of the body, and when she hugged him he had sat still for a good minute before slinging his arm around her shoulders and saying quietly to the top of her head, 'Happy birthday, kiddo,' in that voice of his that means more than he says. 

Ellie doesn't mind. 

She knows she's got the same kind of voice for him. 

And now. Now, Dina is sitting warm to her left and her fingers slip and play over Ellie's new bracelet as she admires it. Every time she touches Ellie's skin, Ellie shivers a little. She smells of the flower Dina had tucked behind both their ears that morning. 

'Yeah,' Ellie whispers. Dina turns to face her and the movie pours light over her profile, the rest of her cast in shadow. Ellie's eyes flick down to her lips. She licks her own lips, starts a little when her tongue finds a trace of chocolate at the corner. 'Yeah,' she says again. 'It's been real good.'

* * *

FOUR.

'Last session, Ellie.'

'You're a champion among men, mister,' she tells Eddie, and slaps a ration card into his hand as she hops up onto the bench. 'You know Dina.'

'Sure I do. Miss Dina.' Eddie touches two fingers to his forehead in a salute, or maybe a bow? Ellie isn't sure. It makes Dina giggle, though, and so Ellie copies the gesture, making Dina slap her shoulder gently. 'All right, let's have a look here.'

He sits back when Ellie shrugs out of her flannel, sitting in her jeans and a slightly grimy singlet. The flannel has everything important in it—a photo of Joel and Sarah that she stole from Tommy, Riley's dogtags—and she folds it carefully and hands it to Dina, who clasps it in a loose hug and nods. 

The tattoo is nearly finished. A fern, curling around her forearm to cover the infected scar. Everyone here knows about it, about her, but it doesn't mean she needs to see it. She had chosen the inks—a deep green, a simple black—and Eddie, genius that he is, had made it  _beautiful_. 

'Not much left, I'll be honest. Just this last bit here,' he points to where the final point of the fern will be. 'And then you're done.'

'Fire her up, Mister Eddie. Let's get this done.'

'As you say, Miss Ellie.'

He takes a moment to set himself up. Pulls the tray over with the needles and inks, and then he adjusts the bright surgery light overtop her arm and gets to work. It's slow business—they're not about to waste electricity on a tattoo gun—but Ellie doesn't mind. It barely hurts at all compared to some things she's been through. 

Dina is fascinated; she has a hundred and one questions for Mister Eddie, who answers all of them in bits and pieces, slowly, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he works methodically. 

Ellie just lays there and breathes. 

At some point, she feels Dina's hand in hers and looks up to see her sitting at her side. 

'You can see better from that side,' Ellie points out.

'I can see just fine from here.'

'But,'

'I can see just fine from here,' Dina says again, tone brooking no disagreement and Ellie subsides with a one-shoulder shrug. Mister Eddie's frown says that was one shoulder too many. 

'Sorry.'

'Stay still.'

'Sorry.'

Dina laughs quietly. She leans into Ellie's shoulder, still watching Mister Eddie's progress curiously. 'Does it hurt?' she whispers.

Ellie shivers, Dina's breath puffing against her ear and neck. 'Um. No.'

'Not at all?'

'It's, uh, like a scrape. That's all.'

'Hmm.'

'Why, you want one?'

'I don't know yet.'

Ellie nods. 

'It's hot.'

'Yeah, it can get hot down here,' Ellie nods. 

Dina clicks her tongue. 'The tattoo, dumbass. The tattoo is hot.'

'Oh.' Ellie flushes. 'Okay. It's to cover my scar.'

'It's hot.'

'Okay.'

She turns a little, to see Dina grinning openly at her, and part of Ellie—her imagination, specifically—kisses her then. Feels her smile, her laughter. Her skin against Dina's. The rest of Ellie—everything real—stays perfectly still for Mister Eddie to work. 

'Good to know,' she drawls. 

* * *

FIVE.

' _Dammit_ , Ellie, that was  _reckless!_ Reckless and goddamn  _stupid_ of you—what were you  _thinkin'_?' Joel doesn't wait for her to answer. 'No, you weren't thinkin' at all. You just waltzed right into a fuckin' ambush with a whistle and a smile and'—'

'That's enough, Joel.'

'I'll tell you when it's enough, Tommy, let me go!'

'I said, that's  _enough_ ,' Tommy says again, and he tugs hard at Joel's shoulder, pulling him clean off Ellie. Tommy gives her a quick once over, concerned. His hands are gentle and he chucks a crooked finger under her chin, tilts her head this way and that. 

She nods—'I'm fine, Tommy, I'm all right, I'm fine,' she says until he listens.

Finally, he pulls Joel away, shoves him into the closest house to give him a stern talking to, judging by the stiff-legged angry stride. 

Ellie looks around.

Howie is bleeding from the ear from the blast of the bomb she had to use; Andrew is soaked in blood all down his front—none his own, thank god—and little Georgie has her jaw set grim and tight. 

Ellie goes to her, sits next to her. 'Sorry 'bout that,' she says gently, and Georgie flicks her eyes to her and then back down to her boot where—oh god. Ellie grimaces. Leans down, flicks the scrap of flesh away with the tip of her knife. Gross. 'There's tea in the mess. You might want to shower, go have a bite or somethin'.'

'Yeah.' Georgie's voice is soft, like a whisper. It always is—something to do, no doubt, with the jagged scar that rips across her neck. 'Yeah, I think I will. Hey,' she puts a hand on Ellie's arm, onto the green tattoo—now finished—that curls around it. 'That wasn't your fault.'

'Yeah.'

'I'm serious,' she tells Ellie. 'Joel is being a dickhead. He wasn't there. We all were. You kept us alive. Thank you.'

'Course,' Ellie says, bobs her head. She doesn't want Georgie to thank her again—she should've seen the signs, she should've  _known_ , maybe then they wouldn't've wasted a bomb, maybe then they wouldn't've had to kill actual people, which,  _god_ , is so much worse than killing those fucking clickers—so she pushes up onto her feet and heads over to Andrew, to Howie. Now that Joel is gone, they quite cheerfully—and loudly, in Howie's case, their ears still ringing from the blast—that they had a great time and they're glad the fuckers are gone and that Ellie kept her cool and—

She leaves them there, claps them on the shoulders, and escapes to her stairwell.

It's dank and well and drips with years of slime and she can usually grab a few minutes of privacy when she needs it. 

She sits, curls over her knees and sets her head down for a moment. No sound can reach her here; just her breathing, a little jagged, and the  _drip, drip, drip_ of water. It takes a little while for her to notice but her breath grows more and more ragged and soon she is sitting there, one hand pressed to her chest, the other against the slick wall, and she can’t, she  _can’t—_

 _‘_ Hey, breathe for me Ellie. Oh super helpful, I’m sure you would if you could,’ Dina scolds herself, and then she’s crouched on the stairs next to her and she lays cool hands on Ellie’s cheeks and tilts her head up. ‘Hey, look at me.’ She drags her thumbs over Ellie’s cheeks, slow and gentle. 

Ellie realises, belatedly, that she’s crying. 

‘Hey, everything’s alright. You’re safe—everyone is safe. You got them  _home_ , Ellie.’ It’s so dark in the stairwell that Ellie can only faintly see a glint of light off her eyes, the faintest outline of Dina’s face. Dina fumbles in the dark for a second, follows the line of Ellie’s shoulder to her hand. She takes it, sets it on her own chest and breathes in deeply, exaggerated. ‘Feel that?’

‘Your boob?’

‘If that helps,’ Dina says, laughing. ‘Breathe in.’

Ellie breathes. 

‘Breathe out.’

Ellie exhales. 

Dina does the same. Her breath is warm on Ellie’s cheek.

Ellie has read so many books—real trashy romantic books, because of  _course_ those are the ones that survive, and they all go on and on about how someone smells like mint and honey and whatever else. But Dina just smells like…Dina. Like sweat and dirt and spice and something else that is probably carrot stew or whatever the fuck they’re making in the kitchens, where Dina was assigned today. It’s all fine and good, she doesn’t smell  _bad,_ not by Ellie’s standards. It’s just that when Ellie thinks about it, the fact that she can pick out Dina’s smell means that she’s pretty damn close. Dina confirms it, leaning in until her forehead is pressed to Ellie’s. Her breath puffs out against Ellie’s cheek. 

Ellie’s other hand trembles, and then slips from the wall to her side. It  _throbs_  and she bites back a sob. 

‘You did  _good_  work today, Ell.’

‘Howie nearly fucking died,’ she chokes out. ‘I nearly— _fuck,’_ she says, breath hitching. ‘I nearly got Howie  _killed.’_

Dina curls an arm around her shoulders. There’s nothing to say, though Dina tries. 

‘You didn’t. You’re great at this—a shit skill to have, in my opinion, since it means you keep having to go out there,’

‘It’s fine,’

‘It’s  _not_ fine.’

‘Someone has to do it.’

‘But why  _you_?’ Dina asks, and she shifts so that Ellie’s head is in the crook of her shoulder and neck and she strokes her fingers over the back of skin just above Ellie’s shirt. ‘Shit happens, Ell. But you got everyone home alive so you’re a hero in my books.’

‘Shit happens?’

‘Super inspiring, right?’ Dina laughs, and she hugs her more tightly.

Ellie’s hand is still squashed between them and she wriggles it free, loops it around Dina’s waist. She lets her forehead drop fully onto Dina’s shoulder. 

‘You know he doesn’t think that. That you nearly got Howie killed.’

‘Joel can suck a fuckin—’ Ellie stops, shakes her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does matter.’

‘It doesn’t, just leave it. Please.’

‘…Fine. But only because you said please. You know I love it when you beg.’

Ellie huffs a laugh. She lets her hug loosen, hand slipping to Dina’s waist. It must be awkward for her to stand the way she does and when Ellie says as much, Dina takes it as an invitation to plop herself on Ellie’s lap, straddling her. She locks her arms behind Ellie’s neck. 

‘Hug me back.’

‘Huh?’

Dina grabs one of Ellie’s hands and pulls it around her waist. Ellie doesn’t need to be told to loop the other one and Dina’s pats her back. ‘Fast learner,’ she husks approvingly, and Ellie grins. It’s easy, in the dark. Dina can’t see the way she stares a little too long. Though she  _might_  be able to feel Ellie’s heart thumping away in her chest. 

Ellie wonders if it might mean something. Dina, seated on her lap, hugging her. Coming to the stairwell for her—knowing where she would go when she’s upset. She pulls back slowly and in the dark her nose grazes against the swell of Dina’s cheek. 

‘Dina?’ she says very quietly.

‘Yeah?’

‘I—‘ Ellie licks her lips. Her heart rate sky rockets at the thought that she might actually, that she would, with _D_ _ina. ‘_ Thank you.’

‘Anytime.’ Dina’s fingers slip up, into Ellie’s hair. She’s nearly cradling her head and Ellie spreads her hand wide on the small of Dina’s back to support her. A full body jolt runs through her when her pinkie grazes against warm skin instead of cloth where Dina’s shirt rides up the tiniest bit. 

Ellie swallows hard. ‘Dina, I—’

Steel grinding on steel interrupts her, the thin whine of the door being shoved open on rusty hinges makes both of them wince. Light floods down the stairwell and Ellie winces, lifts a hand to block the light. 

‘Ellie?’

Perry. Jesus. 

‘Yeah, Perry. We’re down here.’

‘We?’

Dina’s cheeks are dark, Ellie can see now that everything is bright again. She slips off Ellie’s lap and Ellie feels cold from more than just the loss of her body warmth. Something deep inside  _pangs_ with the need to pull her back, to retreat back to that moment, but it’s gone. Dina stands to the side. By the time Perry trots down the stairs, the older woman just sees Ellie climbing slowly to her feet.

‘Hey. Heard about the run. Get your butt over to med right away.’

‘Okay. Sorry, Perry.’

‘That’s alright, pumpkin. Dina.’

‘Perry,’ Dina nods. 

‘Should’ve known it’d be you. Good of you to check on our girl.’

Dina reaches over, tangles her hand with Ellie’s. It sends a spark shivering up Ellie’s arm and then, annoyingly, a jolt of pain. She hisses and Dina twists Ellie’s hand to look down at the scrapes and bruising. ‘What the fuck?’

‘Oh. That. I, uh, I punched a clicker off of Howie.’

‘That’s  _hot_ ,’ Dina exclaims.

‘That’s infection waiting to happen,’ Perry corrects her, and she scolds them both for sneaking off all the way back to the med hall. 

Dina doesn’t let Ellie’s hand drop once, though she’s careful not to jostle her bruised knuckles. She dabs sterilizer on the scrapes, pausing when Ellie hisses, as Perry checks the scrape on Ellie’s back, and she wraps a clean bandage over her hand. 

‘Thanks for coming to find me,’ Ellie says again when they have a moment. 

‘You’re mine, Ellie,’ Dina says with a small smile, eyes dark and intent on her work. ‘I’m not going to let you hyperventilate in a stairwell alone.’

‘But hyperventilating with you is just fine.’

‘It’s my favourite version of you,’ Dina teases. There’s a moment where she glances up and Ellie thinks,  _you’re lying_ , but she doesn’t say it and she doesn’t really know what it means. 

She knows what she  _hopes_  it means, though, and that’s plenty dangerous enough.

* * *

ONE.

‘Do you have a date for the dance?’

Dina scowls, rolls her eyes. ‘Jesse asked me a couple weeks ago,’ she says, and Ellie completely misses the rest of it because her blood rushes in her ears and her whole body feels hot. 

The Stairwell Incident had been only eight days ago and Ellie hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, hasn’t been able to at all, keeps kicking herself for not going for it or for thinking about it at all. It changes. But now… her heart gives an awkward double thump, painful, like it’s slamming out of its rhythm. 

‘Jesse? You two are still,’

‘On and off. Definitely  _off_  now. It’s not going to happen again.’

‘Oh. That’s,’ Ellie scratches at a scab on her arm, pulls her fingers away before she can make it bleed. ‘That’s too bad. You two are cute.’

Dina shrugs. ‘He’s too interested in expanding the zone. It’s  _reckless_.’

‘You’re worried about him.’

‘Of course I am,’ Dina snaps. ‘But I wouldn’t have to worry if he were smarter about the whole thing.’

 _People worry when they love someone_ , Ellie thinks to herself. Thinks about how Joel had woken her up—which had  _not_  been appreciated, since she’d only fallen asleep after tossing and turning for, like, two bloody hours—and had haltingly apologised, and then more easily when she sat up and held his hand and he had pressed a bristly kiss to her forehead and rasped his way through another apology. ‘I saw red, Ellie, all over you and I…I broke a little. It happens every goddamn time. I think this is it, this time you’re not comin’ back, and -’

‘I know, I get it. I get it.’

‘I know you do. It’s not fair, the way I keep snappin’. I’m trying to do better.’

‘You worry.’

‘I do.’

‘All right.’ Ellie had grabbed his hand tight. ‘I’ll yell at you next time. In front of everyone. That’ll make us even, alright?’

‘Yeah,’ he chuckled. ‘Yeah, sounds good.’

‘All right. Now piss off, go to sleep.’

Ellie snaps back to the present when Dina clicks her fingers in front of her eyes. ‘You okay?’

‘Huh? Yeah. Yeah, sorry, didn’t get much sleep.’

‘Joel?’

‘Wanted to apologise.’

‘About time,’ she huffs. ‘Was it a good apology?’

‘Pretty decent. Nothing to complain about.’

‘Good.’ Dina nudges her shoulder to Ellie’s. ‘He was a dick.’

‘Be sure to tell him that.’

‘Don’t think I won’t.’ 

Ellie ducks her head and grins down to her boots because….yeah. Dina totally would. ‘Well, anyway. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of folk who’ll dance with you.’

‘Will you?’

‘I’ll be there,’ Ellie shrugs. ‘Free booze, right?’

‘That’s what I heard. Limit of two drinks.’

‘Of course.’ Ellie shrugs again, tries to dislodge the uncomfortable awareness that Dina will be spending the whole night thinking about Jesse. ‘I have to go.’

‘What?’

‘I’ll see you there, I gotta go.’

//

‘Trying to impress someone?’

Joel leans up against the wall of her room, right next to the direction marker painted on her wall for Dina. 

‘Nope.’

‘No one?’

‘No one.’

‘Huh.’ He scratches at his beard. ‘No one at all?’

‘If you have something you want to say, you can go elsewhere,’ Ellie snaps.

‘Whoa there, easy.’ He lifts his hands in surrender, shrugs. ‘No, I got nothin’ to say, I guess.’

‘All right then.’

He waits a minute longer, then, ‘You know you can talk to me. If you want.’ She pauses. Nods. ‘All right. Uh. Go with the blue,’ he suggests, pointing to the shirt hanging in her closet. ‘Good colour on you.’

‘…Thanks.’

‘…Right. See you there.’

Ellie waits until she can hear the music playing from the hall before she heads over. Wearing blue.

She sneaks in the side door and takes a whiskey from Yara, who definitely pours a tiny bit more into the glass than she ought to, winking. She leans against the bar and drinks slowly, appreciating the burn of it. It makes her smile; last time she’d had whiskey, she’d found a bottle of the stuff on a run and smuggled it back, shared it with Howie and Dina and Jesse beneath the overhang on the west side of the zone. They’d gone home  _trashed_ , Dina piling into Ellie’s bed, and Joel had definitely known what they’d done but he let them sleep in and put them on the evening shift and hadn’t said a word except to flick the whiskey cap at her over the breakfast table. 

She taps her toe to the music, catches movement to the centre of the hall where Dina spins in the arms of a man named  _W_ _alter_. 

Jesse joins her, sighs. 

‘I hate these things.’

‘Tell me ‘bout it.’  _T_ _oo sharp,_  she thinks moments after she’s finished. Jesse is one of her best friends, has been for years. Nothing should change that. She shouldn’t  _let_  anything change that. 

‘Your old man really laid into me today,’ he says, and Ellie relaxes a fraction since he doesn’t seem to have noticed her tone. 

‘What happened?’

‘Nother big lecture ‘bout my patrols. Don’t go here, don’t go there. It’s funny how involved he gets whenever you’re scheduled to go out.’

Ellie huffs a little, bites back the fact that Joel’s well-documented overprotective streak is only  _part_  of why he lectures Jesse. Admittedly a bit part. 

‘Yeah.’

‘She’s uh. Putting on quite the show.’ He jerks his chin toward Dina and Ellie sneaks a look, glances away as quickly. Focuses on Jesse, his slightly hangdog expression. 

‘I give you…two weeks before you’re back together.’

‘Nah. Not gonna happen. She, uh, say something to you?’

Ellie huffs. ‘Make it one week,’ she says softly, smiling at him because that’s much easier than watching Dina make her way purposefully across the room to him. 

‘Ellie!’  _E_ _llie?_  her mind repeats. ‘Hey, what took you so long?’ Dina asks, and Ellie’s mind lurches into action.  _O_ _h._   _Making him jealous. Got it. S_ he lets Dina tangle their fingers together, flushes a little because her fingers are damp with sweat and condensation from her glass but Dina doesn’t mind, tugs her away from the bar. 

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

Dina’s smile  _beams_  at her and Ellie falters for a second. Misses most of the dull barb Jesse and Dina trade, completely focused on Dina’s hand in hers. 

‘Yessir!’ Dina salutes Jesse mockingly and Ellie grins.

‘You’re such a dick.’

‘C’mon, don’t you start with me,’ Dina grumbles, and it’s endearing and huffy and totally Dina. She twists Ellie around so they’re face to face and Dina guides one hand to rest on her hip and her other follows. It feels so much like the Stairwell Incident—even more so when Dina loops her arms around Ellie’s neck—and it’s hard to concentrate when Dina says ‘Okay, I have a very serious question for you,’ in that low, intimate tone she uses when she’s amused with herself. ‘How bad do I smell?’

Ellie blinks. Slowly grins. She leans in and obligingly sniffs.  _S_ _weat, spice, whiskey._  ‘Like…a hot pile of garbage?’

‘Oh, okay,’ Dina hums, eyes flashing with delight, and smushes her cheek to Ellie's, wiping it against hers. 

The move surprises a laugh from Ellie and if it’s like this…she can do this. She can be like this with Dina, she can, and she hears herself laugh again. ‘Oh gross.’

‘You love it.’

Dina’s voice is low still but the teasing quality is…it’s gone. And Dina doesn’t move back or away, she moves  _closer_ , and leans in and now they’re swaying and something warmer than whiskey bursts in her stomach. Quickly followed by churning nerves. 

Ellie scans the room; it’s a learned habit, after so many years and raids and hidden dangers. But now all she finds are the hot bulbs of fairy lights strung over head and a dozen, two dozen pairs of eyes on them. Fleeting, most of them, but a couple are locked on them. 

Jesse, for one. 

Her jealousy plan is obviously working. 

‘Every guy in this room is staring at you right now,’ she says, and she’s  _trying_  to make it sound like a good thing, but… but she’s  _E_ _llie_. She’s just Ellie, and Dina—her best friend Dina, who is magnetic, who is like the sun, who makes everything  _better_  by the fact that she’s there, who is painful to look at sometimes because she’s so… _so_  Dina—is wrapped around her like they’re actually slow-dancing for real, and her voice wavers a little with nerves. The eyes are one thing, and maybe she could ignore them if she could melt away into the shadow, but she’s got her arms wrapped around the fucking sun so hello, that’s not possible.

‘Maybe they’re staring at you.’

The laugh huffs out of her before she can think about it. ‘They’re not,’ she tells Dina, who pulls away a fraction. Like maybe, maybe she hears a little more than just denial. Like maybe she hears the ‘how could they when they could look at  _you’_ Ellie keeps thinking. 

'Maybe they’re jealous of you.’

‘I’m just a girl. Not a threat.’ She drags the words out with a hint of a laugh. She can’t help it, it’s funny that Dina would think—

Ellie doesn’t  _know_  what Dina thinks, she realises. 

Dina has pulled back so she can look into Ellie’s eyes and whatever she sees…Dina’s eyes flick over her face and she pushes a strand of hair behind Ellie’s ear, the gesture making her stomach flutter. Her expression softens, and then settles into something like determination. ‘Oh Ellie,’ she breathes, like her dawn prayer, and everything golden and warm rises up in Ellie’s chest like the morning sun. ‘ _I_ _think they should be terrified of you.’_

And then, 

then, 

Dina is kissing her. 

Ellie frowns, blinks, and Dina pulls back a fraction. Waits for her dumb ass to clue into the fact that _D_ _ina_  is  _kissing_  her. 

Ellie’s eyes flutter closed and her fingers twitch, pressing into the soft of Dina’s hips. She leans into the kiss waiting for her and she feels Dina relax a fraction, before kissing her back, properly. Ellie follows her lead, wanting so badly to pour  _everything_  into the kiss—a kiss like this couldn’t be to make someone else jealous, she thinks. She  _hopes_. And then Dina tilts her head to kiss her better and it’s dramatic and ridiculous but Ellie thinks that if she pulls away now she might  _die._ Ellie has been brave before; she just needs to do it again. 

Ellie settles her hands properly on her waist and kisses Dina the way she’s been thinking about for years. 

It’s over too soon, far too soon. Her lips buzz, her heart beats an odd rhythm in her chest, and Dina smiles up at her. 

‘See? I told you. They should be terrified.’

It’s such a cool line to say after a kiss. Ellie blinks, smiles appreciatively down at her, a hot blush crawling over her cheeks. Then, she says, like a lovestruck  _idiot,_  ‘Cool.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continuation of the first chapter, picking up almost where the kiss left off.

The longer Dina stays with her, sways with her, the more tense Ellie grows.

‘Hey, you okay?’ Dina asks finally, her thumb brushing at the skin of Ellie’s neck, right at her hairline. It doesn’t help; it doesn’t make her feel even a bit less nervous, just gives her shivers. Ellie isn’t super clear on whether the twisting in her gut is good nervous or bad nervous, but there’s no infected or cannibals coming at her with a knife so she reckons it’s not totally bad nervous. She dares herself to lean her cheek on Dina’s head. Holds her breath for one second, two seconds, and lets it out, lets herself relax, when Dina makes a small and happy sound at the gesture.

‘When are you going to stop?’ she whispers.

‘Stop what?’

‘Dancing with me.’

‘Oh. I hadn’t planned on it, actually.’ Dina’s stroking thumb stills; the warm pressure of her hand curled around her neck is…yeah. it’s nice. ‘Do you want to?’

‘No,’ Ellie breathes. ‘But,’ She hasn’t dared do it since Dina kissed her—Dina  _kissed_  her,  _Dina_ kissed  _her_ —because she didn’t want to break out of their little bubble, not yet, but now Ellie lifts her eyes to the crowd and—one, over by the bar. Two and three, standing together at the edge of the crowd. Four, one of the other dancers. ‘People are watching us.’

‘Us now, is it? Not just me?’

Ellie’s laugh is quiet enough that it stays between the two of them. She feels Dina shift slightly and the press of a growing smile from the cheek pressed against her own.

‘Maybe.’

They sway a little longer, even though the music doesn’t suit a slow dance, and then Dina does pull back. Ellie’s hands ache to hold her tight, hold her close. She’s kicking herself mentally—truly, just,  _thrashing_  her mental avatars ass at this point—for saying anything, and she wants to say so much to Dina: wants to tell her she’ll stay here, right here, forever; that she didn’t make herself clear and what she  _meant_  to say was that she doesn’t care and she’d like another dance, or ten; that Dina ending their dance is even worse than she had imagined. But she forces her hands to fall to her sides and gives Dina a crooked smile when she steps back.

‘Don’t look so bummed,’ Dina teases. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘This is a smile, I’m smiling.’

‘I mean,  _technically._ But that’s a smile you give someone who came to tell you its your turn to dig latrines,’ Dina corrects. ‘A shit smile.’

‘Gee. Thanks. Whatever would I do without your  _exquisite_  descriptions?’

‘Lucky, you won’t ever have to find out since I’m not going anywhere.’ She meets Ellie’s eyes when she says it, a touch too seriously to be just a joke. ‘Nowhere without you, anyway.’ Her hands come up to rest on Ellie’s shoulders and she fiddles with her collar, neatens it with a twitch. ‘You look nice.’

Ellie grimaces. ‘Thanks.’

‘Oh Ellie,’ Dina groans ( _Oh Ellie,_ her mind supplies, _I think they should be terrified of you_ , and her stomach clenches tight.) ‘ _That’s_  what you do when I say you look nice? What was wrong with that? Too much affection? Not a good enough compliment? I can try something less common.’

‘Please don’t, don’t strain yourself,’ she tells Dina, laughter curling the edges of her words warm the same way paper curls, smokes, when it’s touched against fire. She looks down at her shirt. Plucks at it. Admits, ‘Joel picked this out for you, that’s all.’

‘For me?’

‘Yeah. I mean, no, I mean for tonight. But you’re the one looking, so,’

‘I certainly am. Remind me to thank him.’

‘I won’t. And don’t you dare,’ Ellie jokingly snarls, and it’s so easy with laughter bubbling in her chest—so much like the champagne she had tasted once, like stars, like summer—to get lost in the way Dina strokes lightly all the way down to her hand, over her cuffed sleeve, fingers grazing over her tattoo, to tangle their fingers together.

Her heart  _thumps._

With one touch, Ellie’s mouth goes dry and her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. She feels the graze of Dina’s fingers—the rasp of Dina’s skin over her callouses, and the knock of tiny scars Ellie knows so well, having usually been the one to patch her up—and it feels so much like she’s fourteen again and underwater, unable to swim. The rest of the world is hazed, rippling away into obscured detail. She feels like she’s reacting a beat too late to every move, every sound. Ellie’s eyes follow Dina’s hand, staring at tan skin twined with her own, pale, both of them scattered with sun-kiss freckles. There’s a brief moment of embarrassment when she notes the fading green-yellow bruise splashed over her knuckles but then Dina pulls, and Ellie follows.

Her lungs burn with a desperate reminder to fucking  _breathe,_  Ellie, and she obliges, sucks in a sharp gasp.

One step, toward the edge of the crowd of folk more interested in talking, eating, drinking than dancing.

Then another, Dina tugging at her hand again. Ellie looks up in time to see her grinning and her head and heart kick into high gear. She’s immediately aware that  _that grin_  will get her into trouble—literal trouble, not just heartbreak trouble—but she’s helpless to resist, following Dina off the dance floor and through the room, dodging hands and questions in a dizzying twirl (on Dina’s behalf) and stumbling (on Ellie’s).

‘C’mon, hero,’ Dina whispers to her when they step to the side to avoid being run over by the food trolley. Well, Dina steps. She’s in front so she sees it coming and then she _yanks_ Ellie, pulls her off-balance and they’re crushed together for a heartbeat—one, two—and then Ellie steps back with a stumbling apology, throws a glare over her shoulder at Bobby. ‘Be cool. Relax.’

‘It’s really one or the other,’ Ellie tells her, and the joke or maybe its delivery—bone dry—makes Dina  _laugh_.

‘I’ve seen you on the outside, Ell, I  _know_  you’re not this clumsy.’

‘Normally I have control of all my limbs,’ Ellie mutters, and she mostly means the hand Dina is still holding onto. She’ll never admit that her knees feel weak and wobbly still from their kiss.

‘Do you want it back?’ Dina asks, eyebrows shooting up.

Ellie flushes. ‘It’s—it’s fine.’

‘That’s what I thought. Come on.’

Dina guides her to the south wall of the hall and when she hears someone call out to her, she breaks into a run. They slip out the door and run down the corridor to the exit, crashing out the push door and toppling full force into the evening. Ellie catches a glimpse of clear joy on Dina’s face and she laughs, pulls ahead of her to jump down the front steps and lead her out onto the grass. They run to the big tree in the centre of the lawn, duck around it and hide from the distant calling of their names.

Bark rough against her back, the muted music pouring from the open windows of the hall, Ellie looks up to the sky—can’t stop from spotting the patrol first, out of habit—and to the stars and the deep black beyond. She pulls in a long breath, all wood smoke and oak. Letting it out, she turns to face Dina, heart stuttering when she sees that Dina is watching  _her._

Doused in gold from the string of lights wrapped about the branches of the tree, Dina looks… Dina looks like  _Dina_. Her hair—much longer than when she had first arrived—is pulled back in a messy bun, a few wisps tickling at her neck. Her dimple nearly swallows up the small dark spot on her left cheek, her smile is so wide tugging at her lips.

 _Lips I’ve kissed,_ Ellie thinks with a jolt.

Her eyes dart down to those lips. With some effort, Ellie drags her attention back up. She clears her throat. ‘Where to?’

‘First stop, my room. And after that—‘ Dina’s grin grows, a light all her own making her eyes glint with delight. And to Ellie, who knows her well, mischief. ‘You’ll see.’

//

The night is cool but Ellie feels warm. Hot, really. God, her hands are slippery with sweat and she wipes one discreetly on her jeans but Dina is holding the other _still_  so Ellie just has to live with that. That, and with the thought that recurs with each step further from the dance, from the music, from the twinkling lights that made it feel like the stars had been beckoned down for one glorious night. The further they go, the more Ellie starts to think it was probably a one off.

And then they get to Dina’s room and Dina is shoving her inside and closes—and _locks_ —the door with a decisive  _click_  and she shoves Ellie back against it. Ellie’s shoulders and heel strike the door, pushed a little off-balance, but she pays no mind to the abrupt chill of the metal or the sound it makes because Dina has her collar gripped tight in both hands and is rocking up onto her tip-toes to kiss her and—and there’s no one here but them, Ellie realises. No one to make jealous. No reason at all to do this unless…

Heat roars through her like a wildfire and Dina hums encouragingly when Ellie winds her arms around her waist. She  _gasps,_ delighted—and Ellie could happily hear that sound a hundred, a thousand times—when Ellie lifts her. It’s a messy moment of negotiation then, Dina smiling against her lips and Ellie fumbling to hold her, and then Dina pats her shoulder and mutters,

‘Bed, bed, go to the bed, dumbass,’ and  _tugs_  at her collar again in an effort to get even a fraction closer and makes a knee-collapsing sound of satisfaction when Ellie groans.

‘Don’t do that when i’m carrying you,’

‘I’m doing that  _because_  you’re carrying me,’

‘Well don’t! I’m—dammit, Dina,’ Ellie swears when Dina laughs against the sharp point of her jaw, mouths at it, ‘Do you  _want_  to fall?’

‘You won’t drop me,’ she husks. ‘I trust you.’

Trust or not, Ellie is a fraction away from her arms giving out like wet noodles because Dina is doing  _that_  to her, and she’s holding her friend close, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand clutching at her thigh to keep her up, and she’s  _so_  warm and pressed  _so_ close. It’s with great relief that she makes it to the bed—steel-caps of her boots tapping on one of the metal posts, sending tinny echoes skittering away into the dark corners of the room—and drops Dina down onto it.

Dina scoots back, pulls on Ellie’s collar so she has to go or risk losing a button and she does  _not_  have enough shirts for that. And…y’know. Maybe this is everything she’s ever wanted and dreamed about, or whatever.

She follows on her knees, sits back on her heels when she gets to Dina. Ellie’s face heats up when she lays a very shaky hand on Dina’s arm. Her fingers feel huge and clumsy as she thumbs gently at the soft, well-worn fabric of Dina’s shirt so she stops but then she’s doing  _nothing_  and Dina is smiling over at her and her heart is  _thumping_  in her chest because they’re alone in her room—in her  _bed—_ and it’s dark and the air smells sweet like the lavender Dina has growing in little pots on the shelf.

‘Can I kiss you again?’ she whispers. Dina nods a few times really fast and Ellie slips her hands up to Dina’s cheeks, holding her still. 

‘You okay?’

‘Huh?’

‘You’re kind of staring,’ Dina tells her, words muffled a little as she tries her best not to move her face. 

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise, it’s sweet. I hope. You  _are_  thinking about how totally hot I am, right?’

‘Something like that,’ Ellie agrees, grinning. 

‘Good. So?’

‘So?’

‘Are you going to kiss me?’

‘I was planning on it but I don’t know anymore,’ Ellie teases. ‘You’re pretty chatty, I don’t know that I need that in my life. I’m kinda quiet,’

‘Now who’s the chatty one?’

Ellie’s grin grows. ‘Good point.’

She still feels incredibly nervous and she can feel her blood  _slamming_  through her at all the points it’s probably not healthy to feel it—the crooks of her elbows, her temples, the whooshing in her tummy, each individual finger where she holds Dina’s face—but it’s a different kind of nervous now that they’re alone. A small piece of her settles more easily in her chest, like she’s lost in unfamiliar territory and this, finally, is a landmark, something she recognises;  _this is_  Dina, she thinks again,  _who likes plain toast and never remembers to put salt in her scrambled eggs and tells worse jokes than me._

Kissing Dina doesn’t feel like fireworks or magic or anything like that.

It feels a little awkward, to be perfectly honest, and totally nerve-wracking because Ellie has kissed two other girls before Dina but neither of those were in the dark with amber whiskey lighting up her veins. Neither of those were as…involved?

‘Ellie,’

‘Mhm?’

‘I’m gonna need you to relax,’ Dina whispers, and Ellie opens her eyes to see nothing but adoration in Dina’s. ‘Okay?’

‘Sure. I love relaxing.’

‘Tell me the last time you relaxed,’ Dina snorts, and she wraps her arms around Ellie’s waist and tugs her closer, slips her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Ellie gulps. 

‘O-ho. Okay, um,’

‘Too much?’

‘No, it’s,’ Ellie blinks, takes in Dina’s grin. ‘You’re actually the worst, did you know that?’ she asks Dina, and it’s  _so_  infuriating, and infuriatingly hot, and Ellie kisses her again and doesn’t worry so much about it because they’re both grinning goofily and it’s far from a perfect kiss.

Dina tilts her head at one point, when Ellie has dropped her hands. She doesn’t remember moving her hands but she finds them again—curling her fingers experimentally—resting on Dina’s shoulders as they trade soft, short kisses. Which change when Dina tilts her head and she captures Ellie’s bottom lip and licks across it and Ellie  _gasps,_ a jolt like electricity slamming through her. She pulls back, sucks her lip into her mouth. Dina watches the movement with laser-point focus.

‘Oh my god.’

‘Dina, actually.’

Ellie snorts. ‘Funny.’

‘You taste like whiskey.’

Ellie shivers, feels intensely every point where they’re touching—hands to shoulders; hands to  _ass,_ Dina; her trembling legs holding her up on either side of Dina’s—and she slips her hands back, double-tucks her hair behind her ears. Dina’s gaze softens.

‘Okay?’

‘Pssh,’ Ellie shrugs, makes a face. ‘Yes? Yeah, I’m good.’

‘Wow. That was super convincing. You should take up acting.’

‘I hate you.’

Dina’s eyes flash and she smirks up at Ellie. ‘Sure didn’t feel like that a second ago.’

‘Right. A second ago.’ Ellie drags her hands through her head again, breathes out shakily. ‘Dina, what are we doing?’

‘Well,’ she says, and Ellie shivers when she hears how shaky her normally unshakeable friend sounds. ‘When two girls like each other very much,’ 

Ellie groans and rolls off her lap away from her. Dina laughs, hooks two fingers into Ellie’s shirt again so she can’t go  _too_ far.

Not that she wants to.

 _What a pretty laugh_ , Ellie thinks, and she lifts her hands to her face and covers burning cheeks.

‘Does it have to have a name?’ Dina asks after a minute. ‘Because I have one but I—‘

‘Anything you want.’

‘What?’

‘Anything you want, anything at all,’ Ellie tells her, words tripping a little off her clumsy tongue but it’s just because Dina makes her  _nervous_ , because she likes her so  _much_. Because she means what she’s saying, means it so much, she would give Dina anything she wants, anything at all.

‘And what about you?’

‘I—‘ Ellie chokes a little. ‘Yeah, if that’s—I mean—if that’s what you want, I’m, um,’

‘You idiot,’ Dina says fondly. ‘I meant what do  _you_  want.’

‘Oh. Oh my god.’

‘But I  _love_  that your mind automatically went there.’

‘Stop.’

‘That bodes super well for the future.’

‘Stop it.’

‘I can trust that you’ll always be right here with me, waiting to get in my pants at the first available moment. Or would that be letting me into your pants?’ Dina continues, teasingly, and Ellie feels light-headed at the idea. But also, well, they’ve been friends forever and Ellie isn’t—has  _never_  been—a pushover.

‘Can you blame me?’ she asks, making her voice as sultry as she can without it sounding totally ridiculous. After a moment, she realises that Dina hasn’t laughed at her, or spoken, and that she is, in fact, staring at Ellie. In the faint light, she can see that Dina’s pupils are blown wide to nearly entirely black, engulfing the colour of her eyes. Ellie smirks. Folds her hands behind her head. ‘I  _told_  you to stop.’

‘Oh no, Ellie,’ Dina says, quietly, in a voice that makes Ellie gulp and taste whiskey and something else, something traded on a kiss. Or two. Or a half dozen. Ellie’s head spins; she can’t believe she doesn’t know how many kisses they’ve traded. She can’t believe any of this and yet the proof is on her lips, her tongue, her skin that burns from touching Dina. The way Dina  _looks_ at her. ‘That doesn’t make me want to stop at  _all.’_

 _‘_ Oh _.’_

//

They’re in the moonlight again. Outside. In the cold evening, which feels so strange against her flushed cheeks but she’s glad Dina can’t see. They’re outside _,_ and Ellie isn’t one hundred per cent clear on how it happened.

First, they were kissing again—Dina likes having Ellie underneath her, apparently, and also she kisses like she’s learning a new dance, step-by-step and then until she’s breathless—and then Dina had sat bolt upright and said,

‘Oh shit, I totally forgot,’

And no amount of ‘Forgot what? Forgot  _what_ , Dina?’ would get her to answer.

Dina had scrabbled off the bed and dug around for a minute in her bag until she re-emerged with an ‘Aha!’ and then she strode over to the door and Ellie—lips buzzing, knees weak Ellie—stands shakily and follows her outside.

Okay, so she does know  _how_  it happens, but the  _why_  is still a bit hazy.

‘Where are we going?’

‘If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.’

‘I’m not  _incredibly_  keen on surprises,’ Ellie warns her mildly. It’s fine though, she’s got a knife in her pocket and another in her right boot just in case. Not that she thinks Dina will take her anywhere dangerous, but it never hurts to be prepared, or over-prepared (if such a thing exists and Joel thinks not, and Ellie, who tries not to agree with him about too many things in case he gets a fat head, also reluctantly agrees) and frequently hurts to be underprepared. 

‘You’ll like this one,’ Dina tells her, and Ellie relaxes. Nods. 

Dina takes her to the east garden, which is actually where they grow summer fruits but the cold snap had come early this year and now it is clear of everything save a few small trees. Nothing too tall, because the patrol has to watch the walls and it would be…not good…if they had too much for bandits to use for cover in the event of a break-in. There’s a new structure there now, built up against the wall. It had been a tool shed once upon a time, Ellie is pretty sure, but it had also been very rundown and falling to pieces and she’s nearly certain that it had been voted to be taken apart for scrap at one of the community meetings.

But here it is: a little bigger, maybe, than before. Definitely more solid looking. It’s half painted in green as though whoever had done it had run out of paint partway through.

Dina leads her unerringly toward it.

She opens the door with a jerk of the knob and a lift, which tells Ellie that she not only knows about this place but knows it very well. Confusion crawls over her like spiderwebs drifting down her back. What has she missed?

Dina leans on the door, grinning. She obviously expects Ellie to step further in so, hand in her pocket, Ellie does.

The corners are clear and there is no where for anyone to hide; the cupboards under the bench have been stripped out, leaving it bare and exposed, and the cupboards above look too flimsy and much too small to hold any person. The couch is flush up against the far wall so no one could be ducked behind it. Ellie relaxes, and then allows herself to look over the cabin properly.

Her guitar case is leaning against the wall there.

On the small coffee table made of crates and a plank of wood are a handful of magazines—nope, those are Ellie’s  _comics—_ and on the shelf are Howie’s wooden carvings, and there’s a prayer mat tucked into the corner, and a sketchbook sitting open that Ellie recognises as Georgie’s from scouting missions, and there, an iPod, the headphones wrapped tight around it, and—

‘What  _is_  this place?’

‘It…hasn’t got a name yet,’ Dina says from her place at Ellie’s shoulder. 

Ellie turns, squints down at her. She’s trying to copy Joel’s interrogation face—one part suspicion, two parts  _knowing. ‘_ You’re lying,’ Ellie accuses her, glee colouring the words.

Dina sighs, heavily. Then, ‘Welcome,’ she says, sounding  _incredibly_ resigned, ‘to Howard’s Bane.’

Ellie’s chin jerks in surprise, eyes flashing wide. Delight bubbles out of her in a laugh. ‘Howard’s  _Bane_?’

‘It’s a very long story. Howie kept getting hurt while we were fixing it up.’ Dina tilts her head. ‘Huh. I guess it’s not that long of a story.’

‘Funny.’

Dina curtsies, brushing out imaginary skirts. ‘Howie hates the name, so it stuck. Also popular was Shick Shack Slick Shack,’

‘Andrew.’

‘The Old Toolshed,’

‘Georgie?’

‘And Home-away.’

‘Sounds like it’s got a lot of names,’ Ellie grins, and she moves to examine the room. She knocks on the bench, pushes hard a couple times. It creaks but hasn’t much more give than that and she nods approvingly, turns to lean against it, arms folded over her chest. ‘What do  _you_  call it?’

‘The Cabin.’

There’s a familiar hesitation when Dina says it that Ellie catches, but she lets it go. If Dina doesn’t want to tell her, she doesn’t have to. Ellie thinks she might know she’s been caught out—her right hand clenches a bit, like she’s working up to say something—but then she just smiles and Ellie nods.

‘What do you think?’

‘I think…’ Ellie looks over it again. Each time, there’s something new for her to see. Like how they must have run out of green paint because someone had written on the ceiling— _howie, ellie, georgia. andrew, dina, jesse. yara, the coolest of this whole bunch—_ and the way a few of the planks look kind of loose from this side. Ellie takes a moment to examine it and she realises that they’re  _meant_  to be like that, that they can prop the planks up and fire out of them if need be, like the arrow slits in a castle she’s read about. It makes her sick to her stomach that they even had to think about doing it, even as a little tension eases from her spine. Her eyes are drawn back to Dina, like always. ‘I think it’s amazing. When did you do all of this?’

‘Howie and Georgie and Andrew helped. Jesse too.’ Ellie glances up to the ceiling again; Dina follows her line of sight and grins. ‘Yeah. Yara helped too—she gave us  _that_.’ Dina points to one of the cupboards above Ellie’s head and Ellie turns, opens the door. There’s a bottle in there of what Ellie recognises is whiskey as well as some mugs. 

‘Mugs? For whiskey?’

‘Yeah, we’re  _pretty_  classy folk.’ 

‘Speak for yourself,’ Ellie says, and she takes down the bottle of whiskey and unscrews the cap and tilts it back, which seems like a fun and cool thing to do until the burn hits her throat and she coughs, splattering her wrist with whiskey. 

‘Sexy.’

‘Shut—‘ Ellie coughs again. ‘Shut up. Want some?’

‘Please.’ 

She ignores the mug Ellie fetches down and swigs from the bottle too. Popping up onto the benchtop, Dina twists to put the bottle back. The glass clinks against ceramic and dull plastic, grinds on the plywood cupboard base. ‘Probably shouldn’t drink any more of that, it’s for everyone.’

‘For everyone who made this place.’

‘Made it, fixed it up. Yeah.’

Ellie steps closer to Dina, leans against the bench again. She measures the distance carefully and backs up so that her hip is about a centimetre away from resting against Dina’s knee. She can’t help but grin when Dina’s knee presses against her very gently. 

‘How,’ she clears her throat. ‘How long did it take?’

‘About a month.’

Ellie nods, hums with feigned interest. Then, she cocks her head with real interest, a little frown digging between her brows. ‘I didn’t know,’ she tells Dina softly, wondering if she should be here—stupid, Dina  _literally_  brought her here—and then wondering if she should have known, if she missed some obvious invitation to help. 

‘Well yeah, dumbass. That was kind of the point.’

‘You didn’t want me to know?’

‘We didn’t want you to  _find out_. It’s a  _surprise_ , Ellie.’

‘For  _me_?’ Dina sighs heavily. Ellie grins. ‘I mean, oh, for me!’ She feigns injury when Dina knocks her knee hard into her side, rubs at her hip and turns so that she’s facing her friend, her… Dina. 

‘Do you like it?’

‘Yeah.’ Dina bites down on her lip, squints at her to see how honest she’s being. ‘Yeah, I do. I haven’t…had much experience with good surprises. Sorry.’

‘Take your time. I can be patient.’

Ellie snorts. Dina hits her again and then shoves off the bench, strides over to the couch to drape herself and sulk. And watch Ellie very keenly as she drinks in the cabin. 

It’s not  _huge_  by any stretch. It’s a little bigger than the room Ellie has in Joel’s house, but only a little. There’s a couple of battered bar stools tucked under the bench and the couch—which suddenly registers as surprising in Ellie’s mind, because how the  _fuck_  did they get that here?—doesn’t look disgusting from mould and exposure. Ellie sits on it, runs her hand over the fabric. pretends she’s not moving her hand closer to Dina’s; deftly ignores the look Dina gives her that says she’s noticed. 

‘Wow.’

‘Right?’

‘You did good work.’

‘Thanks, I supervised,’ Dina grins. Ellie shakes her head. She doesn’t believe that for a second; she’s seen herself how Dina throws herself into her work, whatever work she’s given, so yeah, she doesn’t believe that for a  _second_. ‘It’s kind of…selfish of me,’ Dina continues quietly. 

Ellie turns, brows lifted in a clear question. 

‘This. Tonight. I wanted to be the one to show you.’

‘Show me?’ 

Dina nods. She stands, pats down her jeans. ‘We finished the cabin a couple days ago and I asked the others not to tell you about it yet.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I wanted to be alone with you, of course.’ Dina tosses a leer back over her shoulder and, when Ellie  _laughs,_ her rakish expression softens into something warmer, amused. She walks to the bookshelf, drags a finger over the spines of the somewhat tattered books. 

Ellie tears her eyes away from Dina, shakes her head hard while Dina is looking elsewhere. She picks at a run in the fabric of the couch cushion, then leaves it when it tears a little. Nudges one of the coffee table crates with her toe. It’s not the most beautiful place Ellie has ever been, but it’s pretty fucking amazing for something a handful of kids built. 

‘That’s not really why.’

Ellie glances up, refocuses. ‘Everything okay?’

Dina rolls her eyes. She’s smiling, but it looks…distant. Unfocused. ‘There’s…’ she purses her lips, drums her fingers on the shelf she’s leaning on. ‘There’s this  _thing_  you do when it’s just me and you.’

‘The Dina frown?’ Ellie frowns deeply, feeling her forehead crinkle. 

Dina turns fully to face her. She’s at the farthest point from Ellie in the cabin, Ellie realises, and when she leans back against the wall she crosses her arms. ‘Cute. But no.’ she pauses. Breathes in; licks her lips. ‘I can’t believe how I missed it. I guess it’s subtle, or maybe I’m just looking out for it now.’

Ice drops into Ellie’s belly. What could she possibly be doing around Dina that they need to talk about it? Something  _wrong_? Something that makes her uncomfortable?

‘I didn’t really notice until the day in the stairwell.’

‘The Stairwell Incident.’

‘Capitalized?’ Dina asks. Ellie nods, shrugs. ‘You are  _such_  a fucking dork,’ she says, words drenched in affection. ‘Sure. the Stairwell Incident.’

‘Next time, I’ll keep my mouth shut.’

‘That might be wise.’

Ellie rolls her eyes. ‘You were saying something?’  _Something that I was doing_ , Ellie thinks. Another ice cold drop shivers through her. 

‘I don’t want to read into something,’ Dina says, ‘And I get that everyone is a bit fucked up because, hello, apocalyse.’ Ellie’s lips quirk up in a half-smile. ‘I just—you—‘ she huffs. 

It’s unlike Dina to be fumbling for words so Ellie stands. She makes to walk around the coffee table, to approach Dina; she stops when Dina puts up her hand to stop her. ‘Are you okay?’ 

‘I’m fine.’ She bites her lip. Gives ellie a smile. ‘I just don’t want to be wrong about this.’

‘You’re rarely wrong.’

‘Can I get that in writing?’

‘Absolutely not. I never finished high school.’

Dina snorts. ‘Can you sit back down?’

Ellie feels her frown return for real but she nods, takes a step back and sits once more on the couch. _Seriously,_ a tiny portion of her mind questions, _where did they get this?_

Dina paces for a second. Stops. Whirls to face her.

‘Okay. So I wanted to do this alone because when you’re with other people—even Howie, even Georgie—you’re…different.’ Ellie’s shoulders curl in a little, involuntarily. ‘And then when it’s just you and me, it’s like you have this moment where you could be that Ellie or  _my_  Ellie,’ another shiver—this one warm,  _hot,_ sparkingly hot _—_ runs through Ellie. ‘And it’s not that you’re softer or, or anything like that, but you’re  _different_. And I didn’t notice until we were in the stairwell that even though it was you and me, you were still holding back. I thought—‘ Dina tilts her head, squints over at Ellie. ‘I thought I knew everything about you, but I reckon I don’t, now.’

‘What—‘ Ellie licks her lips. She tucks her hands under her thighs, curls her shoulders forward a little more. ‘What do you mean?’

Dina fixes her with a determined look, one that Ellie has only seen the equivalent of once and it was when Thomas Hangley told her she couldn’t handle the kickback of his rifle and she marched right up to him, kicked him in the back of the knee, took the fucking gun and fired it into the skull of a boar. It had been amazing and scary then; it’s amazing and scary now. 

Dina marches over to her and stops in front of her. 

‘I don’t want to be dramatic and over the top,’

‘Is it even you if it isn’t?’

Dina narrows her eyes. ‘Here’s the plain truth, Ellie. You’re different around me. And I don’t want to press because,’ she licks her lips, ‘well, a whole lot of reasons. But I see it. And you know what I’m talking about.’

Ellie doesn’t try to deny it; she feels her body tense trying to hold it back, so used to trying to hide it even a little. Dina nods. 

‘I wanted to do this alone because there’s something you need to know. And I figured,’ she says, eyes and tone shrewd, ‘that if the others were here you’d play it off or something. Are you listening?’ Ellie nods. ‘We built this place for  _you_ , Ellie. Ellie’s Cabin. It’s yours.’ Ellie’s eyes widen. ‘Just for you.’

‘I—‘

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Dina tells her, like she  _can_  see the way Ellie’s mind whirrs blankly. ‘There are more interesting things we can do,’ she teases. Her voice shakes the tiniest bit and Ellie smiles the tiniest bit, beyond relieved to know that Dina feels as exposed as she does. 

Dina’s idea of stepping back onto solid ground is, however, intense. 

She kicks a leg over Ellie’s legs and sits, straddling her. Winds her arms around Ellie’s neck and says, 

‘You remember how we were sitting like this? In the stairwell?’

‘Yeah.’

Dina leans in. Grazes her nose against Ellie’s cheek and winds closer until they’re hugging. ‘Why did you freeze?’ she whispers. 

‘I—I wanted,’

‘To kiss me?’

‘Y-Yeah,’ Ellie breathes again. It’s gotta be okay to admit that. They’ve kissed…a  _lot_  tonight. ‘Yeah.’

‘Did you know,’ Dina continues, ‘that I wanted to kiss you too?’

Ellie jerks. Her hands slip out from under her legs. Settle on Dina’s hips. ‘No. I didn’t.’

Dina hums. ‘Neither did I.’

Her stomach twists, like a titan reached out and grabbed her stomach, turned it over. ‘Oh.’

‘Not because I’ve never thought about it before. Just because you were covered in blood still and I think your hand was broken and you  _always_  go to the bottom of those  _gross_  stairs,’

‘Hey now,’

‘You have some faults, Ellie,’ Dina teases. ‘I’m just being honest.’

‘You’re probably the meanest person I know,’ Ellie complains. 

‘Too bad. Anyway, we were sitting like this and then,’ Dina leans in a little closer, presses her cheek to Ellie’s. She can feel Dina’s eyelashes fluttering on her cheek. ‘I thought you were going to kiss me.’

‘I—‘ Ellie licks her lips again. ‘Thought about it.’

‘I could tell. I thought I had imagined it but then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Your voice. Your hands on my waist.’ Ellie’s fingers curl into her skin at the mention. ‘Yeah, just like that. You’ve been on my mind, Ellie,’ she whispers, and the proper conversation is probably far from over—Ellie doesn’t deserve the friends that she has, or Dina, but that’s all for  _later—_ but Dina pulls back so she’s waiting, lips a breath away from Ellie’s, and when Ellie leans forward, she smiles into the kiss. And the next one. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm unicyclehippo on tumblr as well, feel free to come around & chat


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